


Scarves

by Chocchi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Tumblr: mcgenjiweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8407855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocchi/pseuds/Chocchi
Summary: After a Blackwatch raid on the Shimada clan, Genji finds a box in front of his door.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i can't do much for mcgenji week cause i'm too busy getting my ass kicked by college and my own mental health, but here's smth i couldn't get out of my head for day one: touch!!  
> completely unbeta'd. forgive me tenma

“Shimada,” Reyes says, from the doorway. He wanders in behind Genji, who’s seated in front of his desk, and around to his desk chair. “You had something you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Yes, Commander,” Genji says, stiffly. His hands clutch a box in his lap. “The retrieval of my belongings.”

“The what now?” Reyes raises an eyebrow as he takes a seat.

“The retrieval of my belongings,” Genji repeats. It takes a conscious effort to keep irritation out of his tone. Reyes only wants to help him, he reminds himself. “I wanted to make sure it was understood that while I appreciate the gesture, it is a dangerous and unnecessary risk on the Shimada missions for agents to be going out of their way to retrieve my possessions. I ask that it not happen again in the future.”

“You’re tellin’ me that box is full of stuff you left behind in Hanamura?”

“Yes,” Genji says, then falters. “Was it not brought back from the most recent Blackwatch mission?”

“Oh, I’m sure it was,” Reyes sighs, leaning back in his chair to rub at his temples. “But it sure as hell wasn’t on orders.”

“Oh,” Genji says. He clutches the box a little tighter, then winces when the cardboard creaks under metallic fingertips.

“Tell me, Genji,” Reyes says. “Was there a note with the box?”

“No, sir. It was left in front of my quarters with the top open.”

“I thought so,” Reyes says, “Sit tight for a minute, will you?”

Reyes reaches for his communicator. Genji stares down into the box. Almost everything in it is purely of sentimental value-- photos he thought he would never be able to lay hand on again, a smattering of handheld games and consoles, and frustratingly, his old scarves. He slides one hand into the box discreetly to slide a finger across the material. It’s as soft as it ever was--it has to be--but the sensation is dulled by his new synthetic nerves. This is surely meant to be a kind gift, but it just feels like a mockery.

“Jesse _McCree_ ,” Reyes suddenly says, so sharply Genji jerks to attention and half-reaches for his shurikens. He’s holding his communicator up to his mouth, narrowed gaze pinned on the wall behind Genji’s head. “If you aren’t running into my office in five minutes, you can start running laps around the base instead, am I understood?”

“ _Roger that, boss,_ ” Jesse says, cheerfully. “ _‘M I in trouble? Wasn’t me, I swear_.”

“We’ll see about that, you little shit. Get up here.”

“ _Alright, alright. On my way_.”

_Jesse?_

Genji stares at Reyes in confusion, knowing--hoping--his baffled expression can’t be read through his visor. At least there’s _some_ benefits to the chunk of metal. Reyes just hums absentmindedly, placing his communicator off to the side of his desk to page through a report. Genji has the sudden and horrible realization that he has to sit here in awkward silence, cradling a box of mementos from a life he fucking _lost_ at the blade of a sword, until Jesse arrives.

The scarves somehow feel scratchy and grating under his hands, now.

Jesse comes jogging into the office a few minutes later. He has a cocky grin ready for Reyes, as always, and a bright beam and a finger gun for Genji. It’s a step down from the usual double finger guns he has for Genji, but Genji is willing to forgive that on account of Jesse looking like someone kicked the shit out of him recently. One of his arms is in a sling; his face is a patchwork of bruises and bandages.

“Hey, Shimada-san,” he chirps. “Boss. You called?”

“What _happened_ to you?” Genji demands.

“Aw, it ain’t nothing. Just got a little roughed up on my last mission,” Jesse says, leaning against the doorway with his good shoulder. “No big deal.”

“And what _was_ your last mission,” Reyes enunciates, in the voice that Genji, over the course of his months at Overwatch, has come to realize is specially reserved for when Jesse fucks up. “ _Jesse?_ ”

“Reyes, you damn well know where I’ve been, it was--” Jesse glances in Genji’s direction mid-sentence. His eyes snag on the box. Genji watches in fascination as his face goes rapidly pale then just as quickly dark with an embarrassed flush. “Oh. Uh.”

“Yes?”

“Aw, hell,” Jesse mumbles, scuffing at the ground with his boots.

“Have you seen this box before?”

“Reyes--”

“Jesse--”

“Gabe, _c’mon--_ ”

“ _Jesse McCree, have you seen this box before_.”

Jesse kicks at the ground for another minute, chewing on his lower lip and determinedly not looking anywhere near Genji and his box. There’s a warm flutter in Genji’s chest as the realization sets in.

“Yessir,” Jesse finally mutters, sullenly.

“Did you leave it in front of Shimada’s door?”

“...Yessir.”

“Did you know I’ve never known a worse goddamn fool in my life?”

“ _Gabe_ ,” Jesse whines. His cheeks are a deep red by this point. Genji takes a guilty delight in his mortification.

“Apologize to Shimada for going through his things,” Reyes says, sternly. Genji opens his mouth to protest, but Reyes plows on before he can start talking. “And for god’s sake, impress boys on your own time, Jesse, I’m not scraping your dumb ass off the ground because you think it’s a quick _game_ to screw around on Shimada missions. That shit is dangerous.”

“I don’t need my dumb ass scraped off the ground,” Jesse snaps, “I made it out just fine, didn’t I? And I wasn’t tryin’ to impress no one! I just--”

“Shimada,” Reyes says, raising his voice to be heard over Jesse. “Sorry. Can you go wait outside the office for a minute?”

“Yes, Commander,” Genji says, slipping out the door before the volume of Jesse’s mortified yelling can make him wince. As soon as the door is closed behind him, though, he hesitates and leans in to rest the side of his head by the crack.

“...Know you know what you’re doing,” Reyes is saying. “But for fuck’s sake, Jesse. The Shimada missions are _dangerous_. There’s a reason we didn’t try to take them out before we had inside info.”

“I know,” Jesse says, petulantly. “But I had it under control.”

“Is this what ‘under control’ looks like?”

“Y’should see the other guys,” Jesse says, and Genji has to bite his lip so he doesn’t snicker. “I’m the one that walked away, after all.”

“I know you are,” Reyes says, and he suddenly sounds tired. “But you might not be next time. All it would take would be _one_ of them having a gun instead of a knife, you know that.”

“...Yessir.”

“Don’t give me that look, _mijo_.”

“I’m not _giving_ you a _look_.”

“You gonna make me give you the _there are people who want you to come home in one piece_ talk again?”

“ _No_ ,” Jesse says, immediately, and he sounds so horrified Genji has to suck in a deep breath and hold it to keep the laughter from bubbling out. “Gabe, jeez, I’m sorry, okay! I just thought he’d want some of his stuff back! I didn’t wanna impress no one or cause such a goddamn fuss.”

“I know, _mijo_.”

“Then why are you _yellin’_ at me?!”

“For the same damn reason Shimada brought the box to me in the first place--it was too fucking risky of you, especially if you’re just fucking off alone and not telling anyone. Shit, I wondered where you’d wandered off alone to that you’d gotten cornered five-to-one and broken your damn arm. You’re lucky you still _have_ it.”

“But I _do_.”

“Jesse.”

“I do!”

“Look, just...don’t do this again, alright? _Please._ ”

“Wasn’t gonna do it again anyway,” Jesse mumbles. “Wouldn’t know what else to grab.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Reyes says. Without raising his voice, he adds, “Shimada, you can come back in.”

Genji flinches at being caught eavesdropping, but opens the door and steps back inside nonetheless.

“Jesse?” Reyes prompts, crossing his arms.

“What is this, kindergarten,” Jesse mutters, then sits up straight and looks Genji in the eyes--well, probably just his visor and he got lucky about the eyes part--to say, “Sorry ‘bout going through your stuff.”

“It is alright,” Genji says. The box is still cradled in one arm. “I appreciate the thought, as alarming as the execution was. Please try to restrain yourself from acts of kindness in the future.”

“Boy’s got jokes,” Jesse tells Reyes, the cocky curl of his lips betraying his solemn tone. “Can’t be too mad.”

“Both of you disasters get out of my office,” Reyes says, shooing them away with a sweep of his hands. “Go on. Out. I have important shit to get done.”

Jesse scoffs and turns toward Genji with a conspiratorial glint in his eyes, only for Reyes cut him off with, “And I don’t want to hear one goddamn word from Angela about you gettin’ up to shit you shouldn’t while your arm is healing, Jesse!”

“I _won’t_ , geez!” Jesse whines. He makes faces at Reyes over his shoulder as he troops back out of the office on Genji’s heels, closing the door behind himself. “Man, I hate it when he goes all _dad_ on me.”

“No, you don’t,” Genji says, because one time he watched Jesse walk into a doorframe because he was so starry-eyed after Reyes patted him on the shoulder and said _good work out there, mijo._ He’s not quite sure who adopted who, but he knows it took him three weeks of active duty at Overwatch to figure out Jesse wasn’t truly the commander’s son.

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” Jesse complains. Somehow, he and Genji have begun meandering down the hallway together. “I mean--aw, hell. Just makes me feel guilty. Don’t mean to worry him.”

Genji hums and tries not to pay attention to the synthetic fuzz the noise makes coming out of him.

“Anyway, uh,” Jesse grimaces and reaches up to tug at the brim of his hat. “I. Uh. Don’t suppose I managed to at least grab some things you liked? Sorry, I guess you’d rather I hadn’t either way, and I didn’t have much pocket space, but--”

“I’m grateful to have anything at all,” Genji interrupts.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Jesse says, waving his hand dismissively and almost knocking his own hat off in the process. “But it’s _your_ stuff, right? And stuff you like? Liked, maybe.”

“Yes, Jesse,” Genji says, bemused but obliging. “It’s mine, and possessions I was fond of.”

“Good, good,” Jesse mumbles, kicking at the floor once again. Genji has seen him show more nervous tells in the last fifteen minutes than the preceding six months he’s been at Overwatch. “The, uh, the scarves seem nice and cozy. Reckon those’ll be good to have back ‘fore winter hits.”

Genji absentmindedly adjusts the box in his hands. Glances at Jesse. Glances down into the box. Glances back up at Jesse.

“Would you like one?”

“Beg pardon?”

“The scarves, would you like one? Here.”

“Wh--Shimada-san, no, these are _yours_ ,” Jesse protests, even as Genji fishes one of the scarves free. “I wasn’t angling for--”

“I know you weren’t. It’s a gift.”

“You don’t gotta--”

“Hold this and stand still,” Genji says, firmly, shoving the box into Jesse’s free hand so he can step forward and start looping the scarf around Jesse’s neck.

“It ain’t even cold today,” Jesse whines, then a muffled “aw, hell,” again as Genji’s thumb brushes against his scruffy jaw while he’s tucking the end of the scarf in.

“Is it as cozy as it looks?”

“Cozier,” Jesse says, still muffled. His mouth is hidden by the exaggerated folds of the scarf, but Genji can tell by the crinkle of his eyes that he’s trying and failing not to smile. There’s a pleased flush high on his cheeks as Genji adjusts the fabric. “Think I might overheat.”

“It will be your own fault,” Genji says. He tugs at the ends of the scarf teasingly, just to make Jesse sway into his space. “Not aiming to impress me, hm?”

“I only thought it’d be _nice_ ,” Jesse says. He lets Genji pull him in just a little closer. “You tellin’ me you didn’t want your games back? Looks fun.”

“I could get new games anywhere,” Genji says, letting go of one end of the scarf to rest an armored hand over Jesse’s sling. “They’re not worth that much to me.”

“Liar,” Jesse says.

“How dare you--”

“Only time I ever saw you smile in the first two months was talkin’ ‘bout that old arcade--”

“That doesn’t mean they’re worth your _life_ , McCree--”

“Honey, do I look dead to you?”

“You will be soon if you don’t stop being a pain in my ass,” Genji says, and secretly preens at Jesse’s delighted cackle. Jesse leans the rest of the way in, lets his forehead _clunk_ against Genji’s visor.

“You are _somethin’_ , Shimada,” he says, nudging the box back towards Genji’s hands before taking a step back. “Here. Gimme just a minute, yeah? Might be a touch tricky one-handed, but--”

But before Genji can tell him no, he’s already got Genji’s favorite old green scarf out of the box, and is looping it around his neck with painstaking care.

“There,” Jesse says, considering him with the proud air of an artist finishing a piece. “Now we match.”

“With you? I can’t go out in public like this,” Genji snipes, just to hear Jesse cackle again. He shifts the box back under one arm and reaches up to brush his fingers against the scarf. It seems softer than it did before, somehow, even where it sticks and catches awkwardly against the silicone on his neck. “McCree?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“Ain’t nothin’,” Jesse says, and this is the _thing_ about Jesse, that Genji can look at him and _believe_ him, that he can look at Jesse and everything Jesse wants from him is right there on his face in plain sight. No ulterior motives, no catch, no secret project. Camaraderie and rough sparring and rougher banter and the occasional playful flirting. Nothing more, nothing less. “You sure I can keep this?”

“Yes,” Genji says, reaching up to tuck the ends of his own scarf in more neatly. “But what’s this, cowboy? I thought you said you were overheating.”

“Sugar, I’m always warm when I’m with you,” Jesse croons, and splutters out a laugh again when Genji elbows him in the ribs.

 

(Later, in the privacy of his quarters, Genji slides his visor off and presses his face into the scarf. It is as soft as he remembers it. Softer, even. Soft enough against his battered skin that he feels moisture welling up in his eyes and shoves the scarf away again to reach for his tissues.

Someday, somehow, he’ll repay Jesse for this.)


End file.
